


Post scene, act 3, it's not pleasant...

by Kruznik05



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kruznik05/pseuds/Kruznik05
Summary: Don't take it seriously okay? This is like a tiny stepping stone.
Kudos: 10





	Post scene, act 3, it's not pleasant...

**Author's Note:**

> Don't take it seriously okay? This is like a tiny stepping stone.

The smell of salt hit his nose as the bundle in his arms clung to him, the rain quickly drenching them as he ran through the old forest. The smell of rain and misty pine always soothed him, yet the roaring buzz of the nanos pounded in his ears as he neared the small village ahead. He clung near an overhanging ledge, deep pink and reds surveying the sleepy town. The creaking sign before a sleepy series of cabins near a single lit cottage caught his eye. He swallowed thickly, certain he could make it by flying the rest of the way, however, the strong shivers and the small chattering in his arms told him otherwise.   
“Bother, quite a bother,” he murmured out of habit, shaking the soaking, silver bangs from his eyes as he decided. The bundle shivered violently again as he moved deftly towards the light.

The heated fan creaked as it lazily turned, clacking and rattling briefly before it turned back to the left. It barely bothered the woman with her nose plastered in the “Visigoth’s Finest” spread, a figure of man in old armor splayed across the front. Tacky blue coated her lids as she admired the contents, briefly flicking her eyes to the opening of the screen door. A tall figure stumbled in, almost dropping something in his arms, pausing dumbly before gently setting the bundle on a nearby chair. Both were dripping on the carpeted floor. A filled in brow twitched. 

“[Ah, ah, forgive me for the bother, is there a room here?]” the tall figure stuttered in surprisingly fluent Germanian for how close the town was to the edge, as he drew near to the counter. The woman finally took a look at him, her uncaring attitude quickly shifting once she saw the model like face dripping water before her counter. 

“[Forgive me sweetheart, what’d you need again?]” she hadn’t really heard him, more so busy admiring the winter blue eyes framed by odd silver glasses.

He swallowed, his face and eyes oddly unreadable, almost complacent. “[A room please miss],” he glanced back before staring into her dark brown eyes, however, rather distantly. “[two beds please],” his voice was oddly airy as well, even if he had a noticeable adam’s apple that bobbed whenever he spoke. She tsked.  
“[Sorry love, only got a single bed room left],” she idled with her chin in her palm, glancing to the bundle when she noticed it shake. Her brow rose when she noticed teeth clenched and chattering between a pair of red lips. He glanced to the counter briefly, before reaching down and removing his shoe, pulling out a bundle of bills and shoving it towards her. 

“[Is this enough]?” He asked hopeful, the bills being several hundred pt Groache. She wrinkled her nose at first till she saw the amount he clutched firmly in a rather strong looking hand, her eyes sparkled as false whites shown between gaudy red lips. She snatched it quickly.  
“[Most certainly dear!]” she grabbed a key from beneath her desk before tossing it to him, still admiring the bills in hand. “[I don’t even care if you mess the sheets studley],” she lightly cackled, counting the bills, sneering to the figure beneath the cloth. The blond mutter a small polite thanks as he fumbled with the keys, glancing at the number before leaving with his companion. He paused beneath the dripping eve and squinting through the rain, pausing and rolling his shoulders before bolting over to a cabin near the back, a “thirteen” painted in white by the door. He fumbled for a moment before pushing the key in and twisting it, darting in and grunting when his shoulder scraped the edge of the door. He glanced about the dark room before seeing a door to the bathroom. He bounded a few steps before whipping his head to the side, scuttling back to the door and shutting it locking it firmly. He huffed, tapping back to his original quarry. The dim yellow of the bath’s lights caused him to screw his eyes shut before gently setting his companion upon the counter, his fingers fiddling idly before he flicked on the roof heater in the bath, stopping jerkily and slipping on the floor as he went to bathtub. He grunted in annoyance at the odd controls of the shower, running his hand beneath the flowing water, quick to dart back into the dark room to get the gas fire going. 

Dull blue grey eyes glanced to the door, watching the other warily as he seemed frustrated with a pack of matches in his gangly fingers. Swallowing thickly before a pair of pale feet tentatively reached the cold tile floor. They retracted warily, before finding their footing yet the figure still swayed. An arm quickly wrapping beneath the sopping figure as the cloth pulled away from a crown of long, golden strands. She couldn’t meet his eyes, her bruised lips tightly stretched into a frown. A small smile and sigh came from him, but it dropped when she shivered horribly again.  
“Ah, sorry, the curtain was the closest,” he tapped his jaw idly, but gently smiled again. “let’s get you out of those, the wet and cold isn’t good for you.” She glanced to him again as he helped her to sit on the toilet, but her eyes dropped back, slowly pushing the drenched, posh fabric down her shoulders. A dusting of red on scraped cheeks. He froze, fumbling briefly before grabbing a fluffy white towel. Lashing fluttering as he was half turned, his nose flicked. 

She trembled again as the slightly warmed air hit her damp skin, the shredded curtain wetly flopping off her shoulders. Covering breast tentatively as she pushed on the rest of fabric, having some difficulty with the heft. She froze when a much larger hand began to help her pull it from her, her cheeks dusting worse as her grimace deepened.   
“Mein Herr….” She croaked, her dry throat catching as she looked away. Noticing he had taken off the bloodied hoodie he had been wearing  
“You’re cold and wet, you’ll get sick if we don’t warm you,” he neared to her face to get her attention, their eyes met, yet painfully. He shook his head anxiously, “Sickness is a bother, being healthy is the most important,” he suddenly rattled off before picking her up again, the cloth finally dropping away from her half naked form and carting over to the now mostly filled tub. Steam rose up from it invitingly. She pressed her chin to her chest embarrassedly as she clung to the mostly dry, spandex shirt. “Might be a bit warm,” he warned before settling her down, the blood that still clung in clumps in her hair slightly tainting the water orange. She pulled her knees to her chest and leaned away from him, causing a slightly distant look to come across his face. Brows knit before he rose again turned away, gently shutting the door behind him.   
She glared at his back as he squeaked away, his sneakers squelching even beyond the door. She sighed before finally relaxing into the water, a few bubbles rising from the before her submerged nose. Her shoulders sagged; her head submerged into the heat as the events of the few past hours raced in her mind. Her stomach churned in sickness, her skin crawling as her nails scraped along pale flesh. She swore she could still feel wrinkled flesh bruising her own with an iron grip- she clutched her thighs together tightly, yet they trembled still. Yet, not from the cold.   
He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the water slosh in the bathroom, a series of coughing reaching his ears. He listened a bit longer before pulling the shirt over his shoulders, wringing out whatever dampness that remained and hung it by the fire. His shoes and socks were next, toes wriggling along the fuzzy carpet at the feeling of the open air. Thumbs then hooked into elastic, till winter eyes glanced to the door intently. He seemed at war with himself before removing the running shorts and hanging them with the others. The bed creaked as he sat down on the edge, his knuckle brushing against the towel beside him. He sighed, beginning to dab along his neck and hair, eyes staring intently into the fire. 

It… It had to have been a good thousand of years since he had lost his cool like that over anyone, let alone the woman who had scampered into the Orden with her metal puppet after being shunned and outcasted by the world. Breaking the train of thought to throw the towel of his head and began to rub and ruffle it along his silver blond mop, occasionally grunting as the loops of the towel caught on his glasses and their piercings. He tossed it away before laying back. His nails occasionally scraped his chest as he rubbed his fingers together, his brows furrowing at the scene that had been angrily buzzing at the back of his mind.

He hadn’t noticed the guards he easily mowed down or the ones that had fallen back to defend their fat slug lord in the inner chambers. His nose wrinkled in distaste as the unwanted memory of the wrinkled fat thing came to mind, jowly jaw hanging agape in shock when he had burst in through the door. The slug was hunched over the heaving, half dressed body of woman. Pale flesh normally stony and cold was flushed heavily, a lone tear straggling down her made up cheek. She involuntarily whimpered as the slug sneered at him, one hand gripping a pale thigh while the other… 

Acid tickled at the back of his throat, noticing a prickle at his chest and his lips aching. His teeth had been grinding together while his fingernails dug into his toned flesh. A deep sigh left him as he shook his head. He hadn’t remembered much after seeing that, just red, red and her clinging to him as he dashed through the trees away from the depravity and carnage.   
He sat up again, seeing the clock’s hand were facing to the window now, noticing a lacking dripping noise from the hearth. 

Gold and tainted orange intermingled as thin fingers threaded through the sudsy strands, the smell of cheap soap now rising away the stench of cologne and saliva from her skin and hair. Taking a deep breath before dipping her head beneath the water, a world of muted silence greeting her. Yet, that left her to her thoughts and memories of the night. 

She had assumed with her excommunication and the resolution of the annihilation of both the Neue and old Vatican that none were concerned with her former ties with nobility, let alone her ex uncle Di’Este or his intentions with her blood. Three years had past since the Vatican and the vast blood of the Papal state had been obliterated from existence from the ion canon of the Ark, lurking far above their heads like an angel of death. The beam had been blinding to her and even her loyal guard Tres from the brief safety of the Sforza estate, the edge of the raging blast just licking the walled boarders of her family home. It was another dance with death, one of so many past that she had grown familiar with her dance partner’s step. Yet, when the all too familiar gait of her partner returned, she had assumed the guards that had snatched her amidst her trailing behind Cain would be the same tempo. But they weren’t, and neither was the man waiting for her with crueler intent than death. Death’s embrace would have been a mercy compared to the life Anouzzou had intended.   
She rose from the sudsy water once more, rubbing the water from her face before her hand clasped together in mock prayer. The distorted reflection in the chrome metal met her red eyed gaze.   
“So good to see you niece, or I should say, my golden goose to power,” a munching sneer grated against her ears as she glared him down from across the medium length table. She didn’t touch the food set before her, or even the goblet of wine to her right. He chuckled, “the food is not poisoned, I assure you,” his teeth scraped against his fork, making sure emphasize the sound of crispy chicken skin between his teeth. She swallowed dryly; her stomach growled in protest at her denial of the feast before her. Acidic bile tickled at her throat, her body aching from the lack of food for a few days another painful pang hit her.   
She glared at him thoroughly before relenting. Her nails tentatively clacked at the silver wear, finally grasping it and began to cut into the juicy meat before her in defeat. Di’este smiled victoriously seeing the “woman of iron” succumb to her basal needs. Of course, he knew iron was easily mailable with the right heat to guide it into place. She tried not to rush to eating, for that would only salt her own wounds, yet the taste of meat and sustenance won her over. She quickly scarfed a good portion of her meal.  
“Good girl,” he murmured, before gesturing with his chin to the goblet beside her. “That chicken is quite salty, it needs something properly sweet to wash it down,” he took a sip of his own to reinforce his subtle order. She covered her slowly chewing mouth, her gaze steely towards him before glancing to the goblet: the only drink featured upon the table. She swallowed thickly, her throat struggling slightly at the forced dryness from the salt. She sighed, before grasping the goblet, staring warily into its dark contents. It was all too perfect really, there had to have been a catch to all of this, she knew how crafty the man could be. She sighed before relenting again and parching her thirst, noticing an odd sweetness to the drink. It was surprisingly not dry for being a red wine. Di’este smiled, greatly pleased. “Quenches the thirst no? Those blood suckers of the broken Empire still seem to know how to make wine it seems,” he prattled idly, yet watched her intently as she took another big gulp. Yet, ever the one for business, she wanted answers first and foremost.   
“You obviously don’t’ want me here because of faulty family ties, dear uncle, explain yourself,” she stated firmly, feeling the wine begin to warm her core. He chuffed.  
“Oh dear niece, but that is exactly why you are here!” He chuckled, raising his own goblet to her. “Why, you’re the last of the good blood, even if it’s tainted, bastard heifer’s blood, the good papal blood still flows in those veins,” he sneered, resting his chin upon his knuckle. Caterina swallowed thickly, turning her head slightly at the strong fuzzy warmth deep within her core. She played dumb.

“I’m afraid I know not what you mean,” she brushed the odd declaration off as her brows furrowed, taking another sip of wine, hoping it would even her nerves. He merely tsked.  
“I know you were not sheltered enough, even with that bumbling creature glued to your hip, to be unaware of your duty in life as a heifer. After all, how could you be expected to even preform as a pope if you were bloated with young?” He scoffed, taking a swig of his own wine as her eyes widened in horror. Her cheeks had flushed red as her chin dipped slightly, yet, her hips shifted on their own. It was probably the first-time genuine fear held her fast, for unlike so many times before, there would be no one to come and save her now. Even Tres, her loyal iron hound, couldn’t possibly do so in time. Her head was swimming as her breathing deepened. He licked a finger. “You should eat my dear, after all, you’ll need your strength and energy pretty soon.” He mused, glancing to her. Yet she smiled mockingly.

“Not like anything would come of it now,” she sneered back, somewhat dizzily, “I wouldn’t get my hopes up for another week or more!” She had hoped that would buy some time for Tres to figure out her location. Indeed, Di’este had her earring smashed, however, she held another way of tracking her on her person. He merely chuckled, leaning back as if greatly pleased. 

“Ah, but that was the point of the wine my dear, heh,” he pointed his sausagey finger to her, “ah look at you, it’s already run its course, all flushed and bothered, a heifer in the throes of heat. You’ll no doubt be rutting against whatever phallic thing you can find soon!” he mocked, his brows raising as he rose. “Heh, rutting into the seat already? You’re more of a breeding heifer than I thought…” bitter look came across his features as he stalked over to her, her thighs rubbed unconsciously together. “Hrmmm…Perhaps that bastard has already popped your cherry? You always were such a spirited thing in your youth,” he clutched a hand to his chin as she backed into her chair with nowhere to go. He smirked, quickly grabbing her arm with a surprisingly strong grip and tossing her to the nearby four poster bed, easily tying her hands above her head and to the post. She looked on in horror, as a wicked smiled twisted his face. “Why don’t we check?” She couldn’t stop herself from yelping when a few fat fingers invaded her, grunting out as he forced them in farther as pain prickled within her.   
He seemed pleasantly surprised, “Ah, still a tight virgin? What are you? Thirty…no, you’re practically thirty-two now!” he exclaimed, curling his fingers firmly, his grip and the binds keeping her from squirming away, her teeth gritted tightly together. He tsked again, fingers feeling about. “You act as if you’re not a breeding heifer, yet your cunt, ballooning and sloppily gripping my fingers, says otherwise!” he rapidly curled his fingers into her causing her thighs to tremble, a huffing moan escaping her as he hit the root roughly. Her body greedily jerked and fluttered at his tempo, his fingers pressing hard and fast as he tore the fabric from her breasts.   
“St-AH!” he slapped her breast, jabbing his fingers harder as he slapped the same breast against. She couldn’t stop the jerk of her hips, even with her stinging breast and tears to her eyes, as her hips began to hungrily roll and grind to his hand. The muscles along her stomach and deep within were starting to lock up as she couldn’t control her breath, uncertain if her bad lungs could keep up. She couldn’t stop, she was going to-

A tap at the door roused her from her shame, the cooled water around her bringing her back down. A solemn voice accompanied the next tap. “I’m sorry I don’t have better clothes… this shirt should be big enough…” he murmured, the door slightly cracked to toss the very large long sleeve on the counter, yet he didn’t fully shut the door. He paused, “I’ll let you have the bed….” She relaxed as she listened to him. “I-I’m sorry,” was all he said before shutting the door. She swallowed but gave a sad smile. 

They looked identical and were different in many ways, yet, it was the little quirks that spoke the loudest. She peeked out warily from the doorway. She frowned nervously, noticing Cain laying back on the bed to one side and clad only in his running shorts. He seemed to sense her staring at him, winter blue cracking through half lidded eyes. He jumped up suddenly, startling her. 

“Ah! The bed, yes, ah…. Here,” he pulled back the covers before backing away, pausing, then snatched a pillow from the bed and disappeared behind the bed. She didn’t move. He peeked over the bed, patting it with a hand. “It’s okay, it’s all yours and I’ll lay down here yeah?” he gave her a hopeful smile before disappearing again. She still seemed to be debating the offer when he was met with the sight of the rustic ceiling. Did she think I’d do the same? He wondered, till he heard the door creak and the soft rustling of air as feet made their way across the carpeted floor. Fabric rustled as the old wooden frame lightly creaked beside him as he partially raised himself up, listening to her settling beneath the covers. When the rustling and coughing ceased did he finally allow his head to relax back. A small huff escaped him as he watched the main door within the dark room, keeping his glasses on in favor of being ready whenever and in case anyone had decided to pursue them. The dark room wasn’t an issue for him, Kruznik naturally adjusted his eyes to the lack of light. His ears were peeled, even if the hard rain outside was drowning out the world.   
“Thank you…” it was but a whisper, but to him it was as loud as a gunshot in the night. Silver brows rose.   
“But of course, I couldn’t leave you, I wouldn’t be a good friend like that would I?” his brows quirked, yet her suddenly laughter and coughing surprised him.   
“I wouldn’t think you’d see me as a friend or is that just how you see your subordinates?” there was a pang of cynicism in her playful voice. Sitting up to find her facing him on her side, he couldn’t help to give her a sad look. Her brows furrowed as she squinted, for she could only vaguely see the outline of his head at the edge of the bed. She already felt uncomfortable just seeing a shadow of his head peeking out, but when his body began to clamor onto the bed beside her did her heart start racing. He rested upon his fore arms and stomach, twiddling his fingers together. She didn’t move away, knowing she had to hold her ground around him. He didn’t understand fear.  
“Well, you did find my glasses, and you actually want to get to know me,” he shrugged, his nails occasionally lightly clicking with his moving fingers. 

Gunmetal blue widened till a look of mirth stretched across her features, a small giggle came from her. A dumbfounded look came to him. “Ah, is there something on my face?” he started feeling around his chin, not realizing she couldn’t see his face. She shook her head, her laughter quickly replaced by coughing. He moved to help her sit up, patting her back. She settled rubbing her mouth with the sleeve. She shook her head lightly pushing him away, but he didn’t budge.   
“I suppose you can thank Dietrich for that then,” his eyes narrowed, “he did push me down that access vent where I found them, I didn’t even realize they were yours…” she trailed off, unaware of the ghastly expression on her companion’s face. “Not at least… not at least till I saw the poster with Abel, Lilith and- “she turned to him, “you.” His breathing was mostly even as he took in what she was telling him, his fingers still lingering on her back, rubbing small circles into her back. She flinched at first but didn’t move away.  
“Seth- “  
“Pardon?” she cocked a brow.  
He Licked his lips, an odd pang hit him in the back of his chest. “Seth, you forgot to mention Seth,” he said idly. Caterina looked at him warily, recalling she had seen a fourth person upon the advert: a young woman with a bob of pitch black hair and sparkling emerald eyes. She nodded solemnly, her core still seething. The heat of his closeness didn’t help. 

“Who was she?” she suddenly asked, hoping to distract herself with conversation. He stared distantly, a heavy sigh coming from deep within. She bit her lip, she finally had him alone, but lacked the weapons to fight him with. If this wasn’t a battle of blood, then it would be of knowledge. For how could she fight an enemy she did not understand? He turned to her, smiling softly. He simply pulled her close to him as he laid back, however, his lack of answer bothered her. But she didn’t pressure him for it, lightly stroking his chest. Her eyes began to droop tiredly, the high of the drug dampening as she began to drift off. 

“I guess you could say she was my wife,” he murmured idly, rousing Caterina from the throes of sleep turning her gaze up to him. She squinted her eyes when she noticed an odd mark on the underside of his chin. He took her shifting as a means to continue. “Wasn’t official though, considering we were so far away from here but we still thought it was,” he blinked for a moment, “she wanted to be the “Mother of Mars,” so I gifted her that wish at every chance…” he trailed off, “perhaps that’s why she never left them? Did she feel guilt and shame, or was it perhaps it was the only purpose she could find for herself?” he shifted again, “regardless, she’s at peace now… and she’ll never be alone ever again,” his smile was genuine and tender as a hand rested upon his heart, an even, soothing tempo beneath. He turned to her, his eyes glowing faintly in the dark. She held her breath, feeling his fingers run up and down her back reassuringly. But his hand began to slow and retract from her, settling it upon the bed. Only to pull her close as he turned on his side and faced her directly, hugging tight. She was startled and attempted to struggle against him when he suddenly wrapped his body around her, but he held fast, slowly stroking her damp hair. “Shhh…. You should sleep Kit Cat,” she froze at the last statement, not meeting his gaze. She sighed as tried to relax in his arms, still somewhat uneasy to be this close to him.


End file.
